LITMIR.BIZ

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drummed faster. “Michael? No, I’m not using my mobile. It fell off the side of the cliff where I was hiking. I’d pulled it out to call you and the D.C.I., but I dropped it.”

      “Molly, are you all right? You sound upset,” Michael said.

      “I’m fine, really. It’s just…I’m at the police station…to report a dead body.” Molly noticed the old woman quickly pick up her own phone. “I’m going back out there to try to figure out who it is and what happened. I should’ve done that right away, I guess, poked around, but I didn’t want to disturb anything before the police looked it over.”

      “What? A body? Molly, slow down—”

      “I didn’t get that close, but I think he must have slipped and cracked his head open on a rock. It isn’t an easy hiking trail, you know, even for a young person in good shape. Paddington’s too busy right now to deal with it so I’m going back on my own.”

      “No, don’t go by yourself. I’ll meet you there. Where is it?” Michael asked.

      Relief flooded over her. “It’s out by Jack Hawkins’s nose. See you soon, love.”

      Molly raced out the front door, feet flying down the steps. She slid into her car just as D.C.I. Paddington and Sergeant Krebs ran out a side door.

      “Molly!” Paddington waved at her. “Wait, Molly!”

      She had the top down on her Mini Cooper, and she twisted in the seat toward him.

      “What’s this about reporting a murder?” Paddington demanded.

      Gripping the car, he loomed over her. Krebs, half his age and size, stayed a step back and regarded her reflection in the Mini Cooper’s gloss paint.

      “A dead body,” Molly corrected. “I was hiking—”

      “—out by Hawkins’s nose,” Krebs interrupted. “That’s what Evelyn told us.”

      Paddington raised a bushy eyebrow at Krebs.

      “Yes, that’s where I was.” Molly started the car. “Follow me, I’ll show you. I believe the man slipped. Like I told Michael, it’s not an easy trail, and it’s not well marked.”

      Paddington nodded and turned toward a nearby police cruiser, Krebs not far behind. Molly eased away from the curb, not waiting for Paddington to change his mind and order her to stay away.

      She kept the top down, even though it felt a little chilly this late in the afternoon. The car had been a gift from Michael last year, and it gave her comfort as she drove toward the horror she’d discovered earlier.

      Molly kept to the speed limit, no easy feat. But she needed to give Paddington and Krebs a chance to catch up. Besides, the dead body wasn’t going anywhere. As Molly headed down Walnut Grove and turned on Main, she noticed a police cruiser pull up behind her; it looked like Krebs was driving—no flashers or siren.

      They wound their way to the southern outskirts of Blackpool and onto an access road that ran along the cliffs.

      Molly often found excuses to drive this road during the late spring because of the colors—leaves greening and flowers springing up everywhere. That’s why she’d gone hiking this afternoon. It had been too lovely to pass the time indoors. That, and she wanted a distraction to keep her mind off tomorrow’s groundbreaking ceremony for the harbor renovation.

      She considered this part of the countryside especially stunning. From here it looked like all of Blackpool was a watercolor painting and the buildings, with their colorful red roofs, seemed to be tumbling down the cobbled streets toward the sea.

      After a few more minutes she pulled onto a narrow strip of gravel and waited for the cruiser to stop behind her, trying not to think about what awaited them. She got out and walked toward the edge of the cliff. The sun, just starting to set, turned the waves a glimmering copper down below.

      “What were you doing way out here?” The question came from Krebs, who had silently appeared behind her. The policewoman verged on petite, but she had a masculine look about her, with a square jaw and short-cropped hair.

      “To enjoy the day and St. Hilda’s Serpents,” Molly answered.

      “Fossils,” Paddington explained, joining them. “Blackpool has one of the richest coasts for fossils on the north shore of England.”

      Krebs snorted. “Fossils.”

      Ignoring her, Paddington continued. “At low tide in the rock pools, coiled ammonites, nicknamed St. Hilda’s Serpents, can be found. I used to look myself once in a while…but in places where the trails are a little friendlier.”

      Molly heard the approach of a motorcycle and spun to see Michael pull up.

      “Wonderful,” Krebs growled. “Might as well invite the whole town.”

      “Afternoon, Michael,” Paddington greeted, then turned to Molly. “Show me this dead body. I want to take a look before I call the coroner. Hopefully we can get this wrapped up before we lose the light.”

      “Is anyone else joining us?” Krebs asked Molly. “Did you invite more people, Mrs. Graham?”

      Molly didn’t bother to answer. She started picking her way down the side of the cliff, pointing to her left and right at narrow spots they should avoid.

      There were only a few handrails along this trail. In her opinion they marred the scenery, but made it a little safer for the less surefooted hikers—and now the police.

      Michael nimbly stepped around Paddington and joined Molly. Experienced hikers, the Grahams were familiar with the long, winding trails that cut across the entire coastline, including this section.

      The handrails stopped when the trail became steeper, discouraging the less proficient hikers from going further.

      “Pretty desolate here,” Michael observed.

      “And beautiful,” Molly added. There were a few cottages along the ridge farther to the south, and soft glows came from some of the windows. The air was clean here, and the wind carried a slight chill. It smelled of salt and rocks and felt good against her face.

      “Careful,” Michael cautioned Paddington.

      The D.C.I. motioned for Krebs to stay behind him. “Two more years,” he grumbled. “Two more bloody years.”

      “Not much farther!” Molly called several minutes later.

      “What!” Paddington said. “If we keep going we’ll be in the sea.”

      “Here.” Molly stopped on a meter-wide ledge and pointed. “He’s down there, see?”

      “Not yet,” Paddington said.

      Michael maneuvered around Molly so they were out of the D.C.I.’s way.

      “Should’ve called Oates to handle this.” Paddington leaned over and peered at the rocky terrain below and a thin strip of rock covered with scree. “Is that a footprint? It’s as dry as Ghandi’s flip-flop here. Hasn’t rained in days.” He took a few more steps down and reached out a hand as if to catch himself. “I’ll probably take a tumble and ice myself, and you berks will be left with Krebs.”

      Molly quietly watched him as she inched forward. She noticed Krebs was staying farther up on what passed for a trail. “See him yet?”

      There was a shuffling sound, the click-click-click of a rock caroming down the cliff from Paddington’s movements. Nobody else even breathed, and the sounds around Molly seemed to intensify—the lapping of the sea against the base of the cliff, the cry of some bird, farther away was the shushing sound of a car driving by up on the main road, and fainter came a dog barking.

      “Yes, I see the poor bloke,” Paddington finally said. “Now, how the hell am I going to get to him?” He looked up. “Sergeant Krebs…call it in and notify the coroner.”

      The

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